


Americano

by janen_ju



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3256961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janen_ju/pseuds/janen_ju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavi is waiting for someone to cross the street. This happens almost every day. He waits, they cross, and they probably won't ever talk again. Well, probably...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Americano

He looked out of the window, the frost still thick upon the pane. The scent of coffee permeated the air as steam rose form the china. He cupped the mug in his hands and inhaled. The aroma of coffee was something he enjoyed even though it brought bittersweet memories; they filled his lungs so he could exhale a new future. He let out a soft moan, something he quickly covered up. Unfortunately he still felt slightly guilty for enjoying the beverage.

He closed his eyes and inhaled allowing the bad memories to enfold him. “It has to be cool enough now,” he thought and gripped the handle of the cup. A smirk played at his lips and he nearly chuckled before he took the first sip of the bitter drink. He preferred sweeter things, although this bitterness became a comfort during the… darker months. Would he sugar coat this bitterness, too?

He rubbed his eye with his free hand and finally allowed himself to laugh. Outside, across the street was the man he had longed to reconcile with, and yet he was sitting in a coffee shop stalking them. He wasn’t sure what he found funnier: the desperation or the utter creepiness of his situation. Either way, what he was doing was anything but the standard apology. However, his social skills were total shit and his idea of a “sorry” was to ignore that the indiscretion had ever happened; apologies didn’t exist in his world.

The drink was almost too bitter, yet he forced himself to choke it down. His pride refused to allow him to sweeten it (or the idea that it would “sweeten” his situation). Something about bitterness allowed him to regain composure when his thoughts would run wild; it was the same bitterness that he had fallen in love with. The abrasive personality of the man across the way seemed to quell his wild nature, a nature that didn’t seem to have a distinct persona. How could he have ruined something so perfect?

The cup clattered against its plate; was it sturdier than he had thought? He felt warm, a certain uneasiness filling him, a pain stuck in his throat. He pulled at the scarf round his neck, loosening the fabric, pulling it up to cover his mouth. He smiled widely and how strange a sight it was. His eyes burned as he stared blankly at the table. Tears fell from his eyes; nothing real coerced them. Was this true sadness or was he just as bitter as his drink?

Swallowing whatever pride he may have had at one point, he removed the scarf. He shook his head and wiped his tears; a testament to his true feeling. Clearing his throat, he brought the cup to his lips once again. Even though his eyes still burned, he could see that the man was still across the street. The light had changed at least once already, so why did he not cross? Was it to torture him? Was everything just a cruel joke, almost pitiable but not quite so? He scoffed and swallowed the cool drink.

Was this to be the end of their journey? A fucking loser in a cafe and a man across the street that would never speak again? If this place sold alcohol he would surely be intoxicated. Even though violence and malevolence crossed his mind he knew neither evil would ever come to fruition. He was merely a coward behind a scarf and steam.

He had waited too long and the coffee was now too bitter to palate. How long had he been sitting at this table, drowning his sorrow in coffee he didn’t particularly enjoy? He smirked again, stifling a laugh, snorting. Looking at his dirtied reflection — if it could even be called that — within the coffee, all he could see was a hollow gaze. Unfazed, he brought the cold cup to his lips and knocked it back as if it were alcohol. He sighed and wished for the poisonous drink.

After swallowing his nervousness, he brought the cup to the counter and ordered another. The price was well worth the taste, he thought. _What taste? I fucking hate this shit. Yuu doesn’t like it, either._ _Why did we ever come here in the first place? The Internet? The coffee that we hate? Fucking why?_

He resumed his previous position: leaning in a wooden chair, hands gripping the edge of his scarf as he stared desperately towards the pavement across the way. He closed his eye but for a moment, inhaling a certain nostalgia. Suddenly, a cup was on his table and he nearly fell over.

“My apologies, sir. This one is on the house,” the waitress said. She smiled. _Lenalee Li_. How long had he been coming here and not known this woman’s name?

“No, please, I coul-“

“Really. You’re a regular; it’s the least we can do.” She left him with a feeling of guilt, a certain additive to his overwhelming stock of chemical interactions.

Sighing, he dragged himself to the cream and sugar station, resigning to the fact he was probably going to spend innumerable hours here yet again. Maybe just this once he would sugar his coffee. What harm could possibly come from a little sweetness? _You're going to ruin everything and he’ll never talk to you again. Exactly how many hours have you spent sitting here watching him for a few moments as he crosses the street to go to work? Are you fucking insane?_

He returned to his table without sweetener in hand. He checked his phone making sure he had no calls or texts. It was almost enough to make him burst out laughing, but some sort of façade kept him from being “that crazy guy.” He leaned back and pulled his necklace out from under his scarf. He put it in his mouth, sucking on it and chewing the beads. Yuu hated when he did that, but it was the preference to smoking an occasional cigarette; it was their compromise. He personally blamed the old man for his habit, but Yuu had helped him. Yuu had always been there, however resilient to emotion.

“Does Yuu still wear that bracelet?” he wondered. He fondly recalled a similarly beaded bracelet the other man would constantly wear. It was something they had in common and something special they shared; a link to a past they never spoke about. Their relationship - if it could be called that -  had been built on a silent understanding of personal boundaries that were to never be broken. No wonder it ended the way it did… what type of relationship could be built on paper-thin walls and negligence towards the partner?

That was how they liked it, though. They didn’t need to ask since they both understood. They both lost what could have been considered family at a young age and lead difficult lives. That is what bound them, and yet he ruined it. He utterly destroyed anything sweet about it and left the dregs bitter and unpalatable.

He hung his head and placed his hands on his neck. “I really fucked up,” he bemoaned. The coffee stench reached him with an acidic burn. He scrunched his nose in resentment. “What choice did I have?” he closed his eye and sighed, exhaling reality once more. Perhaps with his next inhalation would come exaltation? Filling the space was a laugh as bitter as his coffee.

Did he dare look through the window before him to see if that man had crossed yet? Surely he must have; surely he would no longer be there. It had been quite some time since he first saw the man, and the light had definitely changed many times since then. However, to his surprise, the man across the way was closing a ledger and placing it within his coat. _No fucking way_.

With a free hand, the man pushed glasses against his face then fixed his coat. He looked up. Was it just him, or did their eyes meet? _Absolutely no fucking way_. He licked his lips and swallowed, his hands shaking. _Was he waiting for me? Was he watching me?_ He tried picking up the coffee, but a fear of shattering the cup forced him to cease action. He looked down, back in to the brown reflection. Were the tears at his eyes of joy or of fear?

He shakily took up the cup once more and brought it to his now parched lips. He slurped from the china. It took him a moment to swallow, trembling all the way. _There’s no way he’s coming here. Why would he come here? There's no reason_ … The china rattled against the saucer. He tried to fix the spill upon the lacquered table, scrambling to the cream and sugar station for a napkin or seven. _Fuck it looks like I pissed myself_.

Eagerly wiping at the setting stain in his jeans, he returned to the table with the nearly useless “napkins” in his hands. _More like a piece of paper fucking pushing at liquid_. He slammed his thigh against the table, the coffee now a turbulent mess, spilling more and more. “Fuck.” He pressed the stack of napkins on the pool of coffee and noticed it dripping off the side of the table. “Shit.” He nearly flipped the table trying to reach the puddle on the floor.

“There's no need,” said the waitress, Lenalee. She wore a pleasant smile and wiped down the spill with a stark white cloth. _That stain will never come out_. Her smile unnerved him.

She offered to replace the coffee, again free of charge. He declined, but somehow felt that he would soon have a fresh brew upon his table. This time he gingerly took the cup from the handle, and raised it. He realised he was gripping the china too tightly and put it back in its saucer. The last thing he wanted to do was break something valuable. Why would a cheap cafe even use china, anyway? It was too precious to allow strangers to utilise with grubby fingers and dirty agendas.

He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. A fan was spinning, which was odd for the time of year. He watched a single blade, following it until he felt dizzy. Wasn't there something else he could be doing with his spare time, such as something useful to his life? He closed his eye and breathed in. This cafe rarely played music, so the only sounds that accompanied him were his own breathing and the dripping coffee.

Just then, the sounds from passerby could be heard, then following the scent of gasoline and ice. This wasn’t enough to remove him from a sudden relaxation. It wasn’t until an order was made behind him that he went stiff. 

“Cafe latte,” grumbled an all too familiar voice. It hadn’t registered until then that the underlying scent that slowly steep throughout the cafe was non-other than his former lover’s. Never would he have guessed that something so familiar would have been happening this random day on the Boulevard. Of course it was a strange day indeed since it was snowing in a place where it never normally snowed. Of course on such a strange day why wouldn’t such a strange occurrence happen?

His eyes snapped open and he stared at the fan above, except this time he couldn’t focus. He could feel his fingertips tingle. He inhaled, the cold air finally hitting his lungs. Clearing his throat, he sat properly in his chair and stared at his half-empty cup of coffee. Holding his breath, he waited for the familiar stranger to take a seat and prayed they wouldn’t be near him. He swallowed.

Of course, to his great despair, they took the seat directly opposite from him at his very table. If he could think, his first thought might be along the lines of, “This totally is not Yuu sitting here. Yuu would never be this bold…would he?” He sucked in as much air as he felt his now strangled lungs could handle, holding his breath in hopes this moment would pass. He did not dare look up and face whatever penance he knew he deserved; instead, he burrowed his head in his pit of mud.

 After the aching span of what seemed like decades, a mere, “tch” came from the other man. He finally exhaled, noticing his lips had started to go numb. Was he actually capable of caring this much about a person? His reaction surprised him more than this situation as he brought his fingers to his trembling lips.

“Still pathetic, I see,” stated the familiar voice. There was a huff, then the chair the other was sitting in creaked. No doubt he was crossing his arms and arranging himself in a more disapproving way. _Was I always this vulnerable?_

He finally swallowed the lump in his throat and began to speak. “So, what brings you here, Yuu?” He leaned back in his chair, a smiling pulling his cheeks in directions he didn’t know were plausible. Tears brimmed at his eyes, though they were simply from the smile. He wouldn’t cry over his situation, that much was certain. The forced joy he knew he had to maintain was what brought him pain.

“How many times have I told you to not call me that?” Instead of the snap he expected, this was expressed rather solemnly. It was all he could do to not open his eye and gaze upon his former lover.

“Sorry for the wait!” exclaimed Lenalee. She placed the cup and saucer on the table, probably with her brilliant smile, and left without another word.

He could hardly bare the muscular strain and relaxed his face. “I thought you didn’t mind after we… Never mind.” He regained a semblance of a smile, bringing his coffee to his lips. “Cold, hm?” He dare not open his eyes. _If I can’t see him, he can’t won’t see how much I’m shaking._

“Whatever. The snow is weird, though,” said the other. He could practically feel the boredom from where he strained his “happy” expression.

“Isn’t it?” He began to slurp at his drink, almost unsure how to continue being. He was tense, too tense. Was this normal for him? Did he become tense? He didn’t think so. His normal conversation with just about anyone was a bunch of fallacies concluded with a deluded smile…except for Yuu. What the fuck was it about this one man that made him actually give a damn?

“What the hell are you doing, Lavi?” spat the other. _Ah, there it is._

He finally opened his eye to see his dark reflection. _What_ am _I doing? Why am I hiding from him?_ “I…” he placed the cooled cup back on its saucer, “don’t know.” Yet, he felt pressue pushing him in to the cup. Could he drown in such a small space? Obviously not, but he did have his hopes.

“Whatever, don’t look at me.” Did he really sigh? Was Yuu capable of sighing? Did he care as much as Lavi cared? Was the slow sip of coffee an invitation for explanation or just an exaggerated moment of frustration? _Of course he cares; I’m the asshole here._

“Uh, Yu-,” Lavi cleared his throat, “Kanda,” he said gingerly, then swallowed, “I, uh, hmm…” He stared back in to the never-ending bitterness, vibrations rippling towards the rim of the cup, splashing against the china. “Why are you here?” He finally spoke his mind; though had he ever really?

“That’s my question, asshole,” Kanda scoffed. He sipped from the cup, then gently placed it back in its saucer. “I may be an idiot, but I’m not blind. I can see you from across the street every day I go to work. You stalking me?”

A sharp inhale. A trembling hand quelled so stiffly it was painful to watch. A slurp that was so loud it was nearly deafening… or was it his heart in his ears? The china hit the plate with an inelegant clatter, the handler blinking in surprise. Nervous. Sweating. When did it become so hot in this little café? Exhale. “I wasn’t stalking you. I-“ Inhale. Coffee starts to smell like vinegar after too long. “I was getting coffee before work. Can’t I drink coffee?”

“You hate coffee.” The response was so quick, a mallet to the crumbling defence.

“So do you.”

A few moments lapsed before the two started their strange laughter. One sounded as if he were a maniac, the other sounded strangled. Both drank from the cups to quench their now dry throats and nearly choked laughing about that, as well. One cup missed its saucer; the other clanked enough to spill it upon the table once again. Two sharp inhales, yet only one exhales. A swallow, then the second exhale. Throats clear and the china cups are being sipped once more. A smirk and a side glance.

“The coffee hasn’t changed much, has it?” Was this really all he could muster? _What a loser._

“Not really,” said Kanda.

He heard the cup land on the saucer, yet he still could barely lift his head. After all, it was all his fault. How could Kanda forgive him? How could _he_ forgive _himself_?

He blinked a few times to reset himself, then propped his head up. He still couldn’t look the former lover in the eyes, so he closed his eye and did the strange “wink” that was his trademark. He opened his eye once the cup covered it, engulfing him in a liquid darkness close enough to ink, yet far enough that the world wouldn’t be dyed black. Or would it just be stained shit brown? “So, how’s work?” The sound reverberated in the cup.

A snort. “Why the hell wouldn’t it be?” He shuffled his legs and reorganized?? Himself. “Fine; it’s the usual bullshit.” _I will drink as long as I have to. May this cup be refilled so I don’t have to see him._

Maybe it was time, though. He couldn’t run forever. _I can try, but not from him._ “That’s,” he finally lowered the cup to the saucer to catch the icy gaze of the man across from him, “not what I m-meant.” He had to swallow the feverish chill that now seemed to control him. His hands felt too soft and slimy, his head felt way too light. He swallowed and blinked a few times. _Fuck what the hell is_ wrong _with me?_ The look Kanda had given him had infiltrated his mind and was working on disrupting his inner workings. He coughed. “Why are you here?” _I sound fucking pathetic._

There was no change in expression, except that he might have become more blasé. He scrutinised the ex-partner. “It snowed. It’s not like I’m gonna be late for work. This shit is cold for L.A.”

He cleared his throat. _No shit_. “True.”

A silence full of suffering filled the space between. No amount of coffee drips or half-Spanish, half-English banter could cover the distance that longed to be quenched. The fan spun above, the coffee dripped behind, and staunch breathes between were the only comforts.

“Yuu…you’re okay…right?” Lavi looked up from the cup he had been lost in. The other had been staring at the ceiling fan the while.

“Fucking great,” Kanda began, slouching his neck down towards the conversation, “as great as ever. Work sucks, apartments suck, traffic is shit, and tourists can suck my ass. What of it?”

Lavi snorted, “Basically.” _He never really asked about me, but I always told him. Why am I holding back now?_ “Guess I’m fine, ya know? Working for the old man still,” he chuckled. “Same ol’ shit.” _Except this coffee is a bit bitter now._ He sipped and swallowed, awaiting the sure to be never ending pause. Yuu was never going to say anything; it wasn’t within him to even begin a conversation. _How did anyone have an anything-ship with this man?_ Maybe he would speak out of pure annoyance just to shut up the intrusive party, and Lavi was sure that was all Yuu was capable of. Though, their relationship, their _partnership_ was something. He wasn’t sure how to describe it, but it was significant enough to warrant the notoriously emotionless Yuu Kanda certain “feelings.”

 _Shit, maybe I should feel proud. Wow, that’s fucked up._ “Look, Yuu…”

“If it’s about our shit, I don’t really care. I just…” he inhaled, re-crossed his legs and furrowed his brow, “I want to settle a few things.” The look he managed was textbook exasperation, the vein on throat showing slightly as he gulped down the rest of his café latte.

Lavi inhaled, sinking deeper in to a muddled past he tried to not think about. _Yuu was always so direct, now that I think about it..._

He finally swallowed the coffee he had apparently never drunk. He coughed, hitting his chest a few times. Tears brimmed his eye; he wiped them from under the eye patch instead. Through the haze he could see the other fold his hands, a stern look, perhaps judgement befalling the sinner.

“Water, sir?” piped in the waitress.

 _Why is she so attentive? Well, we’re probably the only fucking people here._ “I-“ he cleared his throat. “Thanks.” A curt smile, tight. _You know I can’t see you when I close my good eye, right?_

Pain swelled in Lavi’s shin almost immediately after the waitress left. The plaster smile had yet to crumble as he whipped his head to face his former partner. “Hm?” The bells tingled. Muffled voices over rattling nylon spilling water in to the frozen air. Another swift kick; more pain. A cough.

When his mind wandered, common decency was beyond him. Neither of them shared such specific personality traits, yet when one lacked the other would surely cover for the other. They completed one another, he had thought once. They had thought once. Perhaps.

“What the fuck?” Kanda spluttered. If Lavi didn’t break the china, it was going to be Kanda. Though, he slammed the cup down with such grace it could never ruin something so precious.

 Lavi blinked. His cup was empty. _Water, I have water. Can I drown myself in sixteen fluid ounces?_ He chugged the iced water, wincing the whole way through the glass. He slammed the plastic cup against the table and inhaled, a cold feeling as sharp as the outside. “Huh?”

 “You insensitive prick,” spat the other. _Well, that was a stab to the fucking heart, Yuu. You’re one to fucking talk._ “I literally don’t give a shit about what you did to me, you know? I don’t even fucking care _why_. I can’t fucking forgive you anyway. So, just, at least why did you _betray_ me?”

Was this a rare flicker of emotion that _the emotionless Yuu fucking Kanda_ showed? Well, tickle Lavi pink, he felt fucking honoured. Yet, despite the jab to the soul, Lavi knew it wasn’t Kanda’s fault. He knew, through his entire fucking being, that Kanda was in the right and the he had fucked up on a quantum level. He had fucked up the very fabric of their relationship. There was nothing he could say or do that could ever fix what had been undone by his very actions. _I want to love him._ He smiled. _I don't really love him as much as I had hoped for, do I? Is this the betrayal he’s talking about, or…. I don’t think…_

 _“_ I…I’m not sure, Yuu. I… had something important to-“

“Bullshit.”

Inhale. He trembled with the cup in hand. _You deserve this._

“You know I can never forgive you, right?” _Place the cup down and look him in the eyes._ “Whatever we had was ruined, be it a friendship or more than that.” _Swallow and look at him._ “It _was_ more, and you fucking spat on it like the goddamn traitor you are. You haven’t changed.”

What could he say? What could he possibly say to fix what had been burned? He didn’t add enough grinds to the brew; the taste was watery at best. Was he too strong, or was he too weak? He couldn’t even figure out his indiscretion (though, he knew deep down, what he had done to foul the pot).

His dry throat caught his laughter. _Did I ever really love Kanda? I guess not._ Every second he sat there, shuddering, covering his mouth with his scarf, he felt the pieces dropping. He coughed. He didn’t dare look up, open his eye to witness the probable disgust his past lover was harbouring. _I wanted to love all of you…_

He stopped. His eyes were wide. Tears were gushing from his eyes, pooling in to his empty cup. _How oddly convenient._ His hand trembled, the other clenched the chair. Were they in mourning? No, was _he_ mourning?

“What a sick fuck.” Kanda leaned in. “You can’t love,” he hissed, “You aren’t capable.”

Lavi swiftly wiped his eye and looked at the other man. Kanda looked smug. “What about you?”

It had been so long since the two had last met. The last time they had seen each other was this shop, another cold day. Perhaps, though, not as icy. Perhaps, though, not as cold. Neither had wanted something like this, he thought. He had hoped, at least a sort of reconciliation could be made. He had hoped, though, some sort of peace could be made. It was his fault, though. Why did he expect anything more 

 _Why did I say that?_ He had lost everything in that moment. _That joy… my hope… gone_. _It lifted from the table, laughing, choking, crying, leaving me. It hurt. I hurt. You hurt, I hurt_ you _. I can’t even fucking cry. I cried before, but I don’t understand it. Can you help me? I’m begging you, come back. Help me learn. I was taught to never know this pain. Though when I choke now, is it sadness or something else? I cannot laugh. I think I might have laughed with you. I want you to teach me again, even if you’re just pretending to care. I wish we could still be together. How could I laugh about this goodbye? I suppose we’ll never return to this café again… Is there a way to forget what we were, Yuu?_

He swallowed. “At the very least…” his voiced dropped as the other slapped money on the table, exiting the building post-haste. _I don’t think I can erase this one._

The final dregs brought to his lips, the same as it had ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> My honest thoughts are that Kanda just walks in, punches Lavi in the face, calls him an insensitive asshole, and walks out. However, that wouldn't make for a good story. Would it have been hilariously accurate, though? Probably. It even basically went off in that direction at first, but Lavi told me that he didn't want that. So, I tortured him instead :)
> 
> EDIT: I recently edited this, so this is a reboot version. It is completed, but I might want to explore Kanda's emotions and POV at a later date so this may have a part 2.  
> Please let me know your thoughts!!


End file.
